


A matter of trust

by antheeia



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Crybaby Universe, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Frustration, Top!Ryo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheeia/pseuds/antheeia
Summary: Prostitutes really don't seem to quench Akira's sexual appetite. Ryo decides to take a different approach.





	A matter of trust

“What should I do, Ryo?!”  
  
Once again, they were back to that.  
  
Ryo closed his laptop with a sigh and stood up from the sofa where he was working, moving towards his friend Akira. He was, once again, walking through the door of Ryo’s apartment drenched in demon blood, face a distraught mess and, probably, an erection in his pants. Ryo hurried to help him stand and guide him upstairs.  
  
He waved Jenny off when he saw her coming to help. He knew what to do, and signalled her to just get those bloodstains off the floor before they dried out. At that point, the scene was familiar just as if they had rehearsed it multiple times, and both of them were accustomed to what they had to do.  
  
Ryo helped Akira to the bed, on which Akira fell with a grunt. His hand started palming the bulge between his legs, as if he was trying to scratch the itch away, obviously without success. Ryo closed the door and took a deep breath, as he passed Akira a towel to clean himself. He knew it wasn’t Akira’s fault, but he repeated it to himself once again, to reaffirm it.  
  
‘ _Just get a grip, Asuka._ ’  
  
Every time Ryo saw his friend in that state, the effort to pretend it had no effect on him became more strenuous: it was starting to wear him out, and he was losing his resolve a bit more every time the scene repeated itself, each time with barely any change. Sure, he had taken into account that merging with a demon would bring side effects such as an elevated sexual drive, but what he did miscalculate was how hard it would be for Akira to get rid of that problem, and for himself to resist his own urges.  
  
It would have been so easy to take advantage of him and yet Ryo didn’t want to. Besides, it would only make things between them awkward and that would have complicated everything, especially his plan, as he had concluded the first time that a similar thought passed through his mind. It was a rational conclusion and yet one unusually difficult to act on. He wouldn’t even let himself stare longingly at Akira, not when he could be caught doing so, at least; and yet, while Akira tried to take off his shirt dirty with demon blood, Ryo couldn’t resist and allowed himself a peek at his buff chest, at those firm abs and, fleetingly, at the bulge in his pants.  
  
He turned to open the safe and take out money. He wouldn’t miss it, but he hated using it for that reason all the same. It was frustrating, giving Akira a roll of cash and telling him to just go fuck a prostitute when a part of himself intrusively insisted on how much better he could be at making Akira feel good.  
  
“It’s useless,” started Akira, as soon as he saw Ryo get closer to the safe. “It doesn’t help. It’s not enough.”  
  
Ryo scoffed and turned back towards Akira. He filled the space between them with purposefully slow steps until Akira was at arm’s reach. He smelled like blood, sweat and semen, and yet Ryo couldn't help but find him attractive, admire the way his dishevelled black hair framed his frustrated face, marvel at the form of his broad, muscled shoulders.  
  
“What do you propose?” asked Ryo, because he saw no other options — and it was getting increasingly difficult to imagine one that didn’t involve taking advantage of his friend and of his urges.  
  
“I don’t know!” whined Akira, then he grunted in frustration. “Isn’t there a medicine or something? Or just a different way?”  
  
At the mention of a medicine, Ryo’s mind quickly wandered off a road he really wished it hadn’t even approached — but Akira would be grateful to him if he did that, wouldn’t he? Wasn’t he basically asking Ryo exactly what Ryo silently and longingly wished for him to ask?  
  
As his head felt progressively hazier and he felt the lust building up in his loins, Ryo tried to step away, but Akira’s hand gripped his own and pulled him closer, pressing his face into Ryo’s clothes, wetting the white shirt the blond was wearing with saliva. Suffocating a frustrated whimper in his friend’s chest, Akira closed his arms around Ryo, firmly.  
  
Ryo suddenly felt like the warmth of the room had just skyrocketed and wouldn’t stop rising the more Akira brushed his face against the fabric of his shirt. At that moment, he didn’t just feel attraction towards him, but a very specific desire to pin Akira down and fuck him until there was no air left in his lungs to beg for more. The crude, rough and yet compelling nature of that desire surprised even himself, and it took all the force of will he had to ignore it.  
  
“Please, Ryo-” Akira’s voice was reduced to a begging, pleading whine. Ryo passed his fingers through those silky, ebony hair, in an attempt at offering solace that ended up pushing him even more on edge without appearing to comfort Akira in the slightest. He felt his friend tug at his clothes, pulling him even closer. “Do anything,” begged Akira, “just make this end.”  
  
Ryo’s eyes widened for a moment, while a short but fierce battle raged inside him. The outcome of that battle was predictable, and it marked the moment when all his good intentions ruinously crumpled down and he gave in to his own desires.  
  
“Anything?” he asked in confirmation, a smirk forming at the edges of his mouth.  
  
“Anything...”  
  
“Clean yourself up,” he instructed, pointing to the bathroom door. “I have an idea.”

***

When Akira got back into the bedroom with clean clothes and damp hair, the dirty sheets were gone and so was any trace of blood that had been there. Ryo was sitting at the desk in the room, once again in front of his computer, a small, unusual smile creeping on his face from time to time, and his fingers drumming on the edge of the laptop.  
  
However, Akira was hardly in the conditions to notice most of that, since the cold shower barely did anything to soothe his urges, and his erection was once again painfully pressing against the fabric of a pair of pants. He felt like he was burning from inside out, and his arousal was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch, no matter how much he tried, no matter how many women he paid to fuck, no matter how many demons he killed. At that point, he was really getting not just impatient, but desperate.  
  
“Ryo…” he called, not even trying to repress the frustration and urgency in his voice, licking the drool forming at the edges of his lips. Ryo — the only one who wouldn’t judge him, the only one who wanted to help him, and, most of all, the only one whom Akira could trust completely — was soon by his side and gently directed him towards the bed. Once Akira was sitting, Ryo handed him a pill: a simple, white capsule, whose content would have been difficult to identify even if Akira knew anything about meds — or drugs. Akira raised his eyebrows as he took it from Ryo’s hand. He looked up at his friend as he held the pill in front of his eyes.  
  
“What’s this?” he asked, somehow lucid enough for a few seconds to feel mildly concerned. But as soon as the last syllable left his lips, he was already too preoccupied with that insatiable hunger he couldn’t shake off to really care about the answer.  
  
“It will help,” Ryo reassured him, and he hadn’t even finished talking that the pill was already past Akira’s lips. He smirked and he thanked the rapid onset of the drug because he was starting to get impatient too.  
  
He pushed Akira down on the bed with one hand and sat astride him. Akira’s confused look was endearing — his dark eyes darting from one side of the room to the other, his lips slightly ajar, his eyebrows furrowed — and his suppressed whimpers as Ryo settled above him had a note of neediness that sent a shiver down Ryo’s back and sparked an explosion of warmth in his loins.  
  
Ryo comforted him by caressing his face. “Don’t worry, Akira,” he whispered, leaning on him, lips moving a breath away from his ear. He felt Akira shiver under him at the contact between their bodies, between their skins through the clothes, at the rubbing and stroking of fabric on his erection; and he stared at his blushing, confused face, and at the thin, shiny threads of saliva suspended between his open lips. He licked his ear, just a bit, and Akira reacted — weakly, but instantly — with a surprised moan, trying to push Ryo away.  
  
“Ryo… what…” wheezed Akira, words strenuously wafted through his teeth as Ryo took the lobe of the same ear between his lips and sucked on it, bit it gingerly and then proceeded to lick and kiss Akira’s neck, feeling the muscles under his lips, tensed in anticipation, relax under the warmth of his mouth. Ryo was mesmerized by Akira’s faint moans, by Akira’s hands weakly gripping his hips, pushing him away but not quite firmly enough to actually move him, by the taste of Akira’s skin, an earthy, sweaty taste that scantily retained the scent of Ryo’s shower gel.  
  
Maybe because of the smell, maybe it was the taste, or maybe just the sudden realisation that all of that was really happening, but Ryo felt an abrupt, intense and desperate possessiveness, as if his whole body — starting from the heart beating furiously in his chest, pumping burning blood in his veins, to his arms clinging to Akira’s body, to his nose breathing in that arousing smell of desire — was screaming that Akira was his, his and no one else’s, and that was why it felt so right to finally touch him and kiss him like that.  
  
Ryo’s hands roamed over Akira’s chest, caressing it then rubbing his fingers against the hard nipples he could feel through the clothes. The wet trail left by his mouth and tongue finally, slowly approached the other’s lips, but they slipped away from Ryo’s kiss, whispering his name in between quiet moans.

Akira moved his hands between their bodies, pushing Ryo away with weak resolve. “What… are you doing?” he managed, breathy, his dilated pupils fixed on Ryo’s face and his fingers sinking in Ryo’s shoulders — not enough to hurt, but enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

Ryo stopped, staring down at him for a moment, and once again a smirk curved his lips and lit up his reddened face, one of his hands wandered down on Akira’s stomach, teasingly close to the edge of his trousers, then Ryo’s hips moved ever so slowly, so that his groin would casually brush against the bulge in Akira’s pants, who couldn't hold in a gasp.

“Do you trust me, Akira?”

Akira nodded, despite the confusion, because yes, of course he trusted Ryo, but what he was doing felt somehow wrong. It was difficult to express what he felt when his incoherent thoughts kept trailing off and disappearing into the haze of his mind. He closed his eyes when Ryo slipped his hands under his shirt and started rubbing and pinching his nipples, and trying to bite back the moans was becoming useless more than challenging.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell Ryo to stop, nor to push him away firmly enough. He wasn’t even sure if he had the strength to do it when being touched like that by him felt so incredibly good. At that point, Akira didn’t just feel frustrated and horny anymore, he also felt weak and overwhelmed: his mind was progressively more and more clouded, his reflexes slow and sluggish, and even his will was nothing but a crumpled mass of confused feelings and thoughts. He didn’t even wonder how much of that was because of that strange pill, and how much was because of the way Ryo’s hand caressed his skin with his long, delicate fingers, or because of the way Ryo deliberately and carefully avoided touching his erection through the clothes. What he did wonder, though, was how much teasing could he take before he started going mad.

He opened his eyes again when he felt Ryo’s hands slipping out of his shirt. Akira watched him take both of his wrists, wrapping them in a surprisingly strong grip, and push them behind his head on the mattress. Ryo’s face suddenly came incredibly close to his own, to the point his lips were basically brushing against Akira’s when he whispered, “Don’t worry and just enjoy yourself.”

It was then that they kissed — or rather, Ryo kissed Akira, sloppily, their mouths crashing against each other, Ryo’s tongue slipping between the other’s lips, licking the inside of his mouth as he held his wrists firmly in place. Akira found himself grinding against Ryo’s body, desperate for friction, while he tried to keep up with Ryo’s hungry, wet kisses. Ryo freed one of his own hands, holding both of Akira’s wrists with the other, so he could let his palm and fingers slowly caress Akira’s chest, then his stomach, and, as Akira whimpered in his mouth, unbutton his pants and pull down his slacks and his underwear in one swift movement.

Ryo broke the kiss, grinning and panting, licking away the thin threads of saliva connecting their mouths; he sat back and finished taking off Akira’s trousers and underwear. Akira slightly raised his back from the mattress, leaning on his forearms, and he looked, breathing heavily, as Ryo made him spread his leg and leaned down between them, his face terribly close to Akira’s still untouched erection, and even just the sight of that made him barely able to repress a moan.

“Ryo… please...” begged Akira and if someone asked him, he wouldn’t have been able to say whether he was begging him to stop or to go on. He just knew that he wanted it to end, he wanted that frustration to be over and to feel satisfied.

Ryo kissed his inner thigh with a smirk, then, unsatisfied with the weak reaction, bit the same portion of skin, sinking his teeth into it until he heard Akira whimper. He left other swift, soft kisses on the delicate skin between Akira’s thighs; he teased him by kissing his way up to his chest, each wet peck deliberately slow; he got the shirt out of the way and stopped to suck on his nipples. Only when they were finally back to being face to face, Ryo closed his right hand around Akira’s hard dick, enjoying the loud, hiccuped gasp that came from Akira’s throat.

He stroked the erection one, two, three times, while Akira fell back on the mattress, with a groan, arching his back and cussing as he pushed himself against Ryo’s warm hand. Ryo lay on his side and let him enjoy that for a while, moving his hand languidly and concentrating his attention on Akira’s neck, biting it while he listened intently at the way the other’s breath got caught up in his throat right before he let out a moan.

Ryo loosened the grip on Akira’s dick suddenly, ignoring the groan of protest that almost sounded like a growl, and covered Akira’s mouth with that hand. “Don’t complain just yet, the better part is just starting now, you know,” he whispered, pushing his fingers inside Akira’s mouth and against his tongue until they were completely wet with saliva.

Ryo was suddenly very aware of Akira staring at him as he positioned himself between his legs once again. He regretted playing with him for so long, since now that the best of the action approached he found himself impatient and even a bit frustrated by having neglected himself. But that intense stare and Akira’s progressively weaker resistance were the proof that maybe it had been worth it. When he pushed his legs apart he had to be firm, push just a bit forcibly, before Akira gave in.

“Are you sure… it’s a good idea?” Akira asked, the urgency in his voice making him seem anything but reluctant, despite his question.

“Trust me, Akira. I would never hurt you.”

Ryo wasn’t as delicate as his words implied, nor as slow and teasing as he initially planned to be when he buried his middle finger into Akira’s tight opening, but Akira didn’t seem to mind the harshness at all, judging by his moans. He gave him time to adjust to the sudden intrusion, before pushing another finger in. As he moved his fingers tentatively inside him, he looked at his face, waiting for a reaction. He smirked when that reaction came, in the form a jolt.

“It feels good, right?” he asked, insisting on that spot while he moved his fingers. Akira didn’t reply — not that Ryo wanted or expected him to actually articulate a response — but gripped the sheets with his hands, letting out a whimper between gritted teeth. He was still torn between Ryo’s promises, the pleasure he was experiencing and that persistent feeling of awkwardness that he just couldn’t let go.

Akira felt a contradictory mix of relief and frustration when Ryo’s fingers slipped out of him, and he looked at him with hooded eyes, watching him free his own erection and massage it with lube. He pulled back a bit when he felt the head of Ryo’s dick pushing against his entrance, flinching at the contact, his hesitation still strong enough to dissipate part of the fog in his mind.

Ryo lowered his head — his face was flushed, mouth slightly open, breathing laboured and irregular — and kissed him, initially delicate, lips soft and only slightly open; then he pulled Akira back down towards his groin and slowly but firmly sunk into him while he deepened the kiss and pushed his tongue into Akira’s mouth when he tried to protest.

Akira felt Ryo’s dick sinking into him, and he bit the other’s lower lip until he drew blood, in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to hold back the whimpers. Ryo barely flinched: he licked the blood away and kissed him again. “Relax,” he whispered on Akira’s lips, a breath away from his gritted teeth.

And that was what Akira, lacking better alternatives, did while Ryo moved slowly inside him, or at least what he tried to do until Ryo hit just the right spot: it was easy, then, to risk losing himself in the shivers of pleasure rippling up his spine, to the sound — seemingly so far away — of both his own moans and Ryo’s quiet groans, to the feelings pooling low in his abdomen; it was easy to wrap his arms around Ryo and actually, completely entrusting himself to him as unfamiliar, intense waves of pleasure shook his whole body.

Ryo found himself unable to look away, a compelling need to keep his eyes pointed on Akira’s blushing, disheveled face as if his own life depended on how accurate his memory of that specific moment would be — on how well he remembered the way Akira kept his eyes stubbornly closed, the way his lips twitched at every thrust, the drool all around his mouth that Akira didn’t even bother to lick away; on how well he carved in his memory the feeling of Akira’s fingers sinking into his back, his warmth, the coarse sound of his ragged breathing and of his moans, and that smell — Akira’s smell — sweaty and sharp, filling his nostril at every breath.

But what Ryo remembered most of all in the following days, the image that really stayed with him, impressed in his memory, was Akira’s face when he came — Ryo’s hand wrapped around his dick, moving at the same pace with his trusts — when he came calling out Ryo’s name in a low groan, and his eyes shut violently, a hint of tears at their edges. The simple vision was enough for Ryo to reach his own climax, a couple of thrusts later, a satisfied but exhausted moan leaving his lips as he slid down to rest his head over Akira’s chest. 

“I feel… really satisfied,” commented Akira hours later, the tone of his voice puzzled and his face turned the other way to hide cheeks coloured with embarrassment. Ryo didn’t gloat, he didn’t comment at all, but, as a matter of fact, after that day they never had problems dealing with Akira’s urges again.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this fic was a very interesting experience that I really enjoyed. I hope you did too!


End file.
